


Thorn

by Riotstar



Series: Remember Me, Love [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riotstar/pseuds/Riotstar
Summary: He wondered if he should feel guilty, about the rush of feelings seeing Jimmy had bought back, though they'd never truly left, tucked away in a small, secret part of him. He knew Richard sometimes had other lovers, and wouldn't begrudge him the same. Neither of them expected the other to live like a nun for the three hundred and fifty-odd days a year they were at opposite ends of the country.But Jimmy isn't a lover, he reminded himself,never was and never will be.
Relationships: Jimmy Kent/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent, Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: Remember Me, Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972450
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, apparently I wasn't done with this idea yet. I've left Shrike as a standalone as intended, but here's what I envisage happening next. Our boys get re-acquainted and gradually discover what the other has been doing since they last met, and Richard is kind of a ho, but in a good way.

It took Jimmy half an hour to get away, as the entire household seemed to want a piece of the famous - _Should that be infamous?_ Jimmy Kent. Daisy had seemed completely different, sharp tongued as ever, but much more confident, and her new hair made her look like she'd walked out of a cinema screen. Andy seemed like a good lad, too. _Much more likable than me._

Mrs Hughes had regarded him with the same scrutiny Mrs Patmore had, but hadn't tried to pry. She was shorter than he remembered, and much less stern. 

Anna had hugged him as she asked him how he was doing, and he'd awkwardly patted her on the shoulder in return. 

Mr Bates and Miss Baxter he'd never had much to do with, but Bates had wished him well before rushing off to dress Lord Grantham for dinner. He caught Baxter and Thomas sharing an indefinable look, right before she went up to see to Her Ladyship.

Jimmy kept up the facade of a capable, self made man of the world, holding his briefcase like a shield and making sure to give the impression that life in London was a whirlwind of glamour and bright ideas.

Thomas tried, and failed to concentrate on making sure dinner was served. Once everything was set out, he'd asked permission to head into the village for the rest of the evening.

"I've just found out a friend is in the area and I was hoping to catch up over a pub dinner." _I'll just go anyway if they say no._

"Oh I suppose it's fine, Andy can help Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes hold down the fort." Lord Grantham had waved him off.

Jimmy had managed to get a decent head start on him, despite the rest of the households best efforts, so Thomas was alone with his thoughts for the walk down to the village. He wondered if he should feel guilty, about the rush of feelings seeing Jimmy had bought back, though they'd never truly left, tucked away in a small, secret part of him. He knew Richard sometimes had other lovers, and wouldn't begrudge him the same. Neither of them expected the other to live like a nun for the three hundred and fifty-odd days a year they were at opposite ends of the country. _But Jimmy isn't a lover_ , he reminded himself, _never was and never will be._

Richard had taken him to a bohemian club on one of his visits to London, a much more refined establishment than the one he'd been to in York, frequented by all kinds of people who were… _different_ in some way. He suspected some of Richard's friends there had been a little more than that, at one point or another, but Richard hadn't felt the need to elaborate, and Thomas hadn't felt the need to ask. A quickie in the men's room later, he'd forgotten all about it. He enjoyed what they had, and current circumstances didn't really allow for more.

They'd spoken about Jimmy, once, and Richard had laughed and teased him, "You mean York wasn't the first time you almost went to prison for thinkin' with your prick?" But Thomas could tell by the gentleness behind it, and the soft squeeze of his hand that he understood. 

Jimmy found a corner booth and sat nursing a cheap pint of bitter Yorkshire ale, which he drank as slowly as possible, while he waited for Thomas to join him. The peace he'd felt being back in the countryside had been eroded somewhat by the need to perform, to keep up appearances, for the rest of his former colleagues. He felt worn out and hungry, both very familiar sensations. 

Thomas walked through the door to the pub a little less than an hour later. _He's changed his clothes._ He was now wearing a well fitting, casual suit, so blue it was almost black, and a wide brimmed hat. _He looks good. Shit._

Jimmy was a small, forlorn looking figure in the corner, a half drunk pint on the table in front of him that had been sitting there long enough to lose it's foam head. Thomas caught his eye in acknowledgement, placed an order at the bar and made his way over with two more pints. He slid into the opposite side of the booth, placing his hat down on the seat beside him. 

"I've ordered a steak and kidney pie. Not very hungry though, we could split it, if you want." _Mrs Patmore isn't the only one who's noticed how thin you look._

"I s'pose." _He's trying to feed me up, too. I'm starvin' though._

"So," _Are we going to talk about it?_ "Tell me, how did you and Clara meet?" Thomas took a large swig of his pint to give Jimmy some silence to fill. 

"We met at the boarding house." Jimmy took a smaller sip of his own. "There's a women's one an' a men's, right next to each other, but there's a shared yard. I was out having a smoke." _She found me snifflin' like a little brat because I couldn't pay next month's rent._ "Got talkin', she was workin' in a smaller shop, an' she helped me pass the interview for the place I work now." _I was about to be out on the streets, again, so she let me borrow a suit from work so I'd look like a man worth hiring._

"Have you worked there long?" _How bad did it get?_

"'Bit less than a year. Was able to help her get a position in a different department of the store too, so we've been able to put some money by for our own place." _We've been living on scraps and saving every penny we can._

"You've built a nice life for yourself." _You've got used to going hungry._

"It's not bad, keeps me as busy as when I was at Downton, but the boarding house is more interestin'." _It's full of nutters._ "She plays the piano too."

"When did you propose?" _Have they fucked yet?_

"Six months ago." 

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Thomas's food. Thomas asked for an extra fork and cut the pie in half down the middle, gesturing for Jimmy to eat the bigger slice. Jimmy tried not to look too much like a street urchin in how eagerly he wolfed it down. 

"Have you told her much about your life before, at Downton?" _Does she know I exist?_

"'Course!" Jimmy didn't care that he was speaking with his mouth full. "Told her all the best stories." _And a few of the worst._ "She's a big fan of old Patmore, and you, for that matter." _That's when I knew._ Thomas looked genuinely taken aback at that. 

"Well, clearly she has appalling taste, so you're well matched there." _What did you tell her?_

"Oi, that's my future wife you're insulting!" Jimmy teased back. _Like old times._

By now they'd both almost finished their drinks, and Thomas offered to bring in another round. Jimmy accepted, if only to delay having to leave. At some point Thomas had removed his coat, and his jacket and shirt sleeves had bunched up a little at the elbow. As Thomas rose to go back to the bar, Jimmy caught a glimpse of the scars on one of his wrists. _You didn't have those when I left. Seems I'm not the only one not telling the whole truth._

"So, where did you meet… y'know..." Jimmy asked when Thomas returned. _Where did you get those scars?_

"Oh, now that is a good one!" Thomas slid another pint across the table and told him all about the royal visit, and the events surrounding it, in hushed tones at the parts that involved Richard, even though the pub was loud and the booth far away from any other patrons. _Should probably leave out the part where I got arrested though, old wounds and all._ By the time he'd got to the bit about Molesley embarrassing himself and everyone who knew him in front of the king, Jimmy was laughing harder than he had in months.

"What a bloody plonker!" _Cotton wool for brains, god love him._

"And yet he's the one who somehow got a job educating young minds." _He's a much better man than I. Even if he is an idiot._

"Have I missed anythin' else… important?" _Should I ask about the scars?_

"Well, let me see." _I fell apart, after you left._ "Lady Mary got married again. To a racing driver, 'cept he doesn't do that anymore, think he owns a shop with Branson now." _I can't tell him._

"That's nice, I 'spose." _I don't give a shit about Lady Mary._

"And Lady Edith married a Marquess." _He'll blame himself._

"Bet His Lordship was pleased." _Who cares._

"And the children are proper little mischief makers." _I'm running out of things to say._

"That's nice." _Tell me about the bloody scars!_

Thomas took another large gulp of bitter, dark brown ale to give himself time to think. What good would it do? At best, he'd only make Jimmy feel worse about what had happened than he already did. At worst he'd be angry, or disgusted, or, even worse, he'd pity him.

Jimmy watched Thomas take a long sip of his beer, and tried not to look like he was trying to get a better view of the marks on his wrist. His eyes flickered over to Thomas's other hand, still covered by an old, tattered white leather glove, and when he shifted his arm, Jimmy thought he saw a matching set of scars on his other wrist, too. Jimmy felt the first flames of anger start to flourish in his chest. He wanted to grab Thomas with both hands and shake him, until he told him what he'd done. _I want to slap him. And myself. Would this have happened if I hadn't been such a twat?_

Thomas thought he saw Jimmy looking at his wrist, and tried to angle it so the scars wouldn't be visible to him. _Did he see them? Does he know?_

"So when's the wedding going to be?" _Change the subject._

"Hmm? Oh, when we've got enough saved I s'pose." _We don't really have anyone to invite anyway._

"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" _I don't want you to go._

Jimmy hadn't thought that far ahead. _As usual._ The potential business partner he'd been to see had lent him the use of the car that had brought him here, no doubt wanting to appear successful, and generous with it. "I'll get a cab back to York, got a train back to London tomorrow afternoon." _I can't afford a cab_. 

"It's late, you could stay at the house, there's a smaller staff now, so we've got room." _He can't afford a cab._

"It's fine, I'll kip in the waiting room at the station if I can't find one, get a train back tomorrow morning." _I've slept in worse places._

"Don't be stupid, it's cold, and dark, and I'm in charge now so no one's going to question it." _Upstairs might, but they don't need to know._

Jimmy hesitated for a moment. The offer was appreciated, but agreeing to spend the night in the place he'd been wishing he could fly back to for the past four and half years felt like a step too far. Thomas glanced up at him from where he'd been staring at the bottom of his almost empty glass, and the brief eye contact, the concern behind it, made him want to leap across the table, press his face into Thomas's shoulder and let it all out. _I can't do it._

_I don't want to leave, though._

"Alright." _This is a bad idea._

"Good, I'll call up to the house and ask Mrs Hughes to have a bed made up for you." _This is a bad idea._


	2. Chapter 2

In addition to preparing his old room for him, Mrs Hughes insisted on sending a car down to collect them. Jimmy sat in the back seat, stewing in his own misery. Thomas sat up front beside the driver. As the car wound it's way up the long country lane to the house, Jimmy thought he saw a bird of prey shoot down from the dark sky into one of the fields, no doubt going in for the kill on some poor, innocent creature.

It was late enough when they got back that he didn't have to see anyone else, Mrs Hughes offered him a cup of tea, and when he politely declined she said "I'll head off then, goodnight lads." and left them to it.

Jimmy followed Thomas up the stairs to the servants corridor, leading him to his old room. It was nice, really. _Better than any room I could hope to afford in London, and so quiet, even when Alfred used to snore._ The room smelled like fresh linen and candlewax. Thomas didn't follow him inside. 

"Strange, being back here." _I've been back here a thousand times, in my head._

"We've only got Andy as a full time footman now. Molesley helps out if there's a lot of them, but he lives in a cottage near the school." _I haven't been in this room since you left._

"Well, I've enjoyed it, being back, seeing everyone." _Seeing you._

"It's been nice." _I thought I'd never see you again._

"Well, goodnight." Jimmy nodded, but didn't move to turn away or close the door between them.

"Goodnight, Jimmy." Thomas turned to leave, heading to his own room. 

_I can't do it. I can't keep it in anymore._

"Thomas" Jimmy called out to him, voice hushed so he wouldn't disturb the others. Thomas turned to find Jimmy standing in the doorway of his old room, jaw clenched, looking like he was fighting some great internal battle. Thomas waited for it to resolve itself. "It's been hard." _Here we go._

"I know." Thomas walked the few paces back towards Jimmy's old room, gestured for him to go inside, and closed the door behind them. Jimmy sat on the bed and Thomas pulled up a chair opposite him. _Not too close, though._ He waited for Jimmy to find his voice.

He'd gone and done it. He'd stuck his foot in it, and now he'd have to explain to Thomas how he was still a screw up who'd managed to get himself fired from every good job going, and ended up on the streets of London, cheating and stealing and gambling until he'd scraped together enough money for a roof over his head, and somehow, miraculously, ended up meeting Clara and turning his life around.

"I got a job, as a footman again, working for the Aclands, but I think word must've got round to them somehow, 'bout why I lost my job here, 'cause I got let go a few months later." _I guess I was never that cut out to be a servant, but I tried._ "I hadn't done anythin', least I don't think so, so reckon that must be why." _My heart wasn't in it, but it stung._ "Then I got a job at a house with fewer staff, similar to what you've got now, that one was my fault." _I couldn't just stay out of trouble._ "I guess I was just bored, so I stirred the pot a little, nothin' that bad, but they got sick of me causin' problems."

Thomas wasn't speaking, but he looked pained, and a little angry. _Is he angry with me, or them?_

"So I pretty much gave up on service after that, never wanted it anyway but I'd have rather left on me own terms." _I failed._ "Tried to get a regular job, but y'know, I'm far too good lookin' to be wasted on manual labour." _Least I used to be._

_Still a little shite underneath it all._ Thomas smiled fondly. _I didn't stand a chance._

"Got a job as a waiter at a fancy restaurant in Harrogate, which was good money, but one of the regular patrons took a shine to me." _I didn't learn from my mistake._ "She kept comin' an askin' specifically for me, and you know how I don't like sayin' no-"

_Fucking hell, he's an idiot._

"-she offered me money in exchange for…" Jimmy mimed something crude and unnecessary. "...and I said yes, an' course the bosses found out and I got fired. Again." He paused, searching Thomas's expression for signs of disappointment. 

"Jimmy..." _Darling,_ "...you're an idiot." 

_There it was._ "I know." _He's right._ "So I ended up moving to London, had some money at least from, y'know..." Jimmy sucked in his lips and looked sheepish. "I'm not proud of it." Thomas was looking at him like he wanted to give him a telling off, but knew he didn't need to. "Not enough for a room at first but I got by, eventually scrapped together enough for the boarding house, an' then I had an address, so I could send letters out to job vacancies again. Then I met Clara." Thomas's expression was unreadable again.

"Jimmy," _He didn't, did he?_ "What did you do to get enough money for a room?"

"Stuff..." _Stole food, pawned everything but the clothes on me back, got me arse kicked a few times for cheating people out of it._

"You didn't… sell yourself, did you?" _Do I want to know?_

"What? No!" _Thought about it though._

Thomas was silent for a long time. Jimmy fidgeted awkwardly and avoided eye contact. _Well, it's out in the open now at least._ He felt relieved, but wished Thomas would say something.

So that was it. _At least he felt comfortable enough to tell me._ Thomas thought of Jimmy, sleeping out on the street, cold and hungry, no doubt pissing off the wrong sort of people in his efforts to survive. _And I wasn't there to help. He could've asked, at least._

"You could've asked."

"What?" That wasn't the response Jimmy had expected.

"For help I mean." _I would've done anything for you._

"Oh." _Oh._ "I don't know why I didn't…" _I didn't want you to think of me like that._ "I guess I just… forgot?" _Shit, why did I say that?_ Thomas looked deeply hurt, for the first time since he'd woken Jimmy with a kiss, and Jimmy had pushed him away. "No, I didn't mean that!"

"Then what did you mean?" _I know I don't mean as much to you as you do to me._

Jimmy wrung his hands. _Just say it._ "I didn't want to let you down."

"Huh." _What did that mean?_ Jimmy looked like a boy who'd been dragged before the headmaster, and didn't expect to leave without being given a caning. "Jimmy, pal, do you really think, after all we've been through, after all the stupid shit I've done, and watched you do, that you could disappoint me?" _I love you._

Jimmy's eyes went wide. _So there was still hope._ "I guess... I guess not."

"But things are alright now, right? Do you need money?" _Please let me help._

"We don't have much, but we've got enough to survive." _I don't deserve your help._

"Does Clara know all this?" _Does he have someone to keep him out of trouble?_

"She does. She called me an idiot too, when I told her…" _I took money for sex._ "When I told her why I lost me last job."

"Well at least one of you has some sense."

The room was starting to cool, as the warmth of the now long extinguished fires seeped out. Jimmy felt the cold creeping in through his cheap, thin, impractical suit. _Shouldn't have got rid of all me good clothes._ He shivered, and Thomas got up and grabbed a blanket from the chest of drawers behind him. He put it around Jimmy's shoulders, sitting down on the bed beside him, so their elbows were a few inches apart. _He's too close. And not close enough._

"I suppose I owe you the truth now, too." Thomas sighed. _Is this about the scars?_

_I've got to tell him something. But he'll blame himself. He deserves some honesty, though._ Thomas was glad sitting beside Jimmy gave him an excuse not to look at him. He fixed his eyes on the floor, and took a slow, steadying breath.

_I fell apart after you left._ "I've been…" _I wanted to die._ "When you left…" 

Thomas's hair had come unslicked and fallen over his eyes, hiding most of his face. Jimmy wished he could see his expression. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and huddled closer.

"After you left, I thought it would be easier if I wasn't… the way I am." _If I didn't want you anymore._ "If I was, normal."

_God, what did he do?_

"So, I read about this… treatment." _I let myself get played for a fool._ "Tried to change myself. It didn't work. It made me… ill." _I poisoned myself to try and make the pain stop._

"What?" Jimmy was mortified. _Is this my fault?_ "But Thomas, you know I don't mind it, right? 'Least not now I understand it a little." _A little too well._

"I know, Jimmy, it's not you." _It's me._ "I just, it's always been this secret… I drive people away. Or I did, I've been trying not to."

"What… this… treatment," Jimmy was having trouble wrapping his head around what he was hearing. "What did it involve?" Jimmy had heard rumours, that there was good money to be made in selling sham cures for peoples' ailments, cures that ran the whole gamut from being just plain water or chalk pressed into fake pills, to industrial chemicals and rat poison. 

There were zealous types he'd encountered too, who offered food and shelter and belonging in exchange for acceptance of their ideology. Some had seemed like decent charitable folk, and he'd got a couple of hot meals out of them while he'd lived on the streets. But he'd met a few others that had scared him away, ones that told him if you just punished yourself enough, their god would fix you.

Jimmy had long stopped caring about what any divine power might think of him, in the face of more immediate problems. 

"I don't want to talk about it." _I can't._

"Is that what these are from?" Jimmy reached out and ran his fingertips across one set of the scars on Thomas's wrists. Thomas snatched his hand away like he'd been burned, reflexively trying to hide them, and regretted the loss of Jimmy's touch immediately. _So he had noticed them._

"Yes." He lied. _I can't tell him that as well. Did Jimmy look hurt just then?_

"But, I'm happy now," _Happy enough at least._ "Baxter, and some of the other's helped." _Though I didn't deserve it._ "Then I met Richard, and other men like me." _I'm not alone anymore._ "It's fine. Really." _All things considered._

Jimmy felt like the worst person in the world. He'd spent the last four and a half years so caught up in his own selfish world, sauntering from one train wreck into another, while the only real friend he'd ever had, 'til he met Clara, was alone in a world full of people that distrusted him, if not outright disliked him, punishing himself to try and fix something that wasn't broken. _I don't know what to say._

"I'm sorry." Jimmy blurted out.

"You've nothing to be sorry for, Jimmy, I did it to myself." Thomas turned to him, brow furrowed.

"No, I know that, but, I'm sorry I left you alone." _I'm sorry I never told you how I felt._ "It were me own stupid fault that I had to go."

"I suppose, though maybe if I'd been a better friend I'd have tried to talk you out of it." _I was too in love with you to say no to you._

"But, we are still friends, right?"

"Always, Jimmy. Just, try to remember to write this time, please." _Don't forget about me_.

"I will." _I didn't forget about you._

Thomas rose to leave, and Jimmy got up too, wanting to say or do something to make Thomas realise how much he'd missed him, but a rare feeling of doubt gave him pause. _He's better off without me._ Instead he extended his hand again, and when Thomas took it, pulled him into a brief, one armed hug. 

"Goodnight, Thomas." _He's so warm._ He let go, the smell of stale cigarettes and beeswax still on his mind.

Thomas didn't have time to react, before it was over, and he was saying goodnight in return, and heading back to his room. _Jimmy just hugged me._ He'd never done that before.

Jimmy replayed the night's events over and over in his head, as he got ready for bed, wanting to carve them into his memory so he'd never forget again how Thomas spoke, how he smiled and how he smelled. How his body felt against Jimmy's, and the startled, rabbit-in-headlights face he'd made when Jimmy pulled him close. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep tonight, so ruminating on the past, on what he wished had happened, and what he'd do now, if he was worthy enough, would have to do.

Thomas got ready for bed and lay wide awake, a familiar, aching longing starting to bloom in his chest. His thoughts seemed to have become stuck in a loop. _Jimmy just hugged me. What the fuck? Jimmy just hugged me._ He'd almost been happy, accepting his lot to grow old as the Butler of Downton Abbey, as Carson had before him, with his regular, brief but wonderful adventures with Richard to keep him going. He'd finally begun to accept that this was his place in the world, and that he'd never see Jimmy again, and then he'd shown up on the back door step, charmed his way in like a stray cat, and hugged him.

_The little shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far, the next chapters will take longer because they're less linear and involve more characters, so I can't post them as I write them in case things get muddled later :P


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